


if I could see the future and how this plays out, I bet it's better than where we are now

by VolxdoSioda



Series: FFXV/MHW [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XV, Monster Hunter (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, blind!Cor, palico!Ardyn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-29 16:38:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20439161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VolxdoSioda/pseuds/VolxdoSioda
Summary: Noctis, and the beginning steps of becoming a Hunter.





	if I could see the future and how this plays out, I bet it's better than where we are now

Getting up at the crack of dawn early the next morning turns out to be surprisingly easy to do, even without Ardyn’s continued assistance on the matter. Noctis stumbles his way through his ablutions, regretting that the small pack he carried on the journey is now lost with the Fifth’s ship, which means no toothbrush or hair supplies until he has a bit of currency between his fingers. 

He does kidnap a bit of Cor’s mouthwash and soap to at least wash up a bit, so he doesn’t walk into the Canteen smelling like sea water and sweat. Cor’s Palico has provided Ardyn with a headband to give to Noctis, done up in the custom Astera style, and made with soft fabrics. It’s thick enough to hold Noctis’ hair out of the way of his eyes, which he appreciates. Hopefully the leather uniform they provided isn’t  _ too  _ soaked through. As best dressed as he’s going to get, Noctis lets Ardyn hop onto his shoulder, and together they make their way to the Canteen.

Situated on a natural rocky ledge overlooking the whole of Astera, the Canteen boasts an impressive display of food items for any baby or veteran Hunters looking for a bite before they go seeking trouble. It’s run by the Meowscular Chef Jun, and his extensive family of children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. 

The counter and stoves are all carved from the natural rock, or slabs of it. Barrels and crates lay scattered about the area, and while Noctis doesn’t see many Hunters out and about, the Palico of the Canteen are tirelessly toiling away. There’s one adding ingredients to a massive iron cauldron that Noctis suspects will hold soup, another one fanning the flames of one of the smaller stoves with a bamboo pipe. Several more dart around on the upper level, carrying trays, plates or empty mugs away as the few humans there are awake at this hour finish up their meals. 

“Nyahaha, now here’s an a-mew-sing face,” Jun growls as Noctis sits down at the counter, Ardyn plopping himself down beside. “Cor warned me his kitten would be coming by early. You hungry?”

Noctis hides a jaw-cracking yawn behind a fist, shaking his head. “Not this early, no. I don’t suppose you have coffee, or something like it?”

“No coffee, but we’ve  _ khlah.  _ I warn you, there’s not much that’ll sweeten it. You against bitter things?”

“Not particularly. If it wakes me up before Cor gets here, I’m all for it.”

That sends Jun purring. “Good. Kittens oughta carry such an attitude. Rosie! One cup of  _ khlah  _ for this young’un!”

The mug that gets brought to him is filled to the brim of what looks like mud. Noctis doesn’t give himself a chance to back out; he takes a sip, and the thickness of it makes for a surprise. It’s almost pudding-like. The taste is as bitter and dark as Cor’s blend of coffee, or Ignis’ Ebony back home. Still, it’s not bad, and Noctis offers some to Ardyn, who takes a single sip and then refuses any more. 

_ Yes,  _ Ardyn agrees as he washes his whiskers anew.  _ That is most certainly khlah. Disgusting as ever.  _ He yowls something at Jun, who replies in a deeper-pitched yowl. Whatever they’re talking about, it’s clear Jun is used to dealing with attitudes like Ardyn.

He finishes the mug just as Cor arrives. The man’s missing his armor, dressed down instead in the blacks of the Kingsglaive. He’s gained a few more scars since Noctis last saw him, and his hair has a few more grey hairs, but overall he looks much the same.

“You’re drinking  _ khlah?”  _ Cor asks, in what sounds like surprise. “Hm. Jun, if you would.”

“Aye. Rosie! Another mug of  _ khlah!” _

“What is  _ khlah?”  _ Noctis wonders as he watches the delicate white and brown Palico mix up another batch of the drink.

“A type of ground nut that grows in abundance near the edge of the forest, mixed with the roots of several different edible plants from around the same spot. They use honey to sweeten it as best they can, which also thickens the mixture.” Cor accepts his own mug with a nod to Rosie. “How are you feeling?”

“Well enough. Hands don’t hurt like I expected they would.”

“The tonic I dunked your hands in last night has properties to prevent such things. Although it won’t stop your hands from splitting open again if you decide to punch your problems away.”

Noctis feels his cheeks burn. “Yeah, I um. I think I’d prefer a weapon, from now on.”

“You’re in luck then, because I’m not letting you leave base without a weapon in hand and armor on your back.” Cor finishes his mug, and slides both of them back towards Jun with a handful of silver circles. “Come along.”

Ardyn stays seated, still talking to Jun.  _ I’ll sit this one out, dear heart. I’ll be in the room when you return, no worries. _

_ Suit yourself,  _ Noctis shrugs, and goes after Cor.

“What’s the currency here?” Noctis asks as they walk. “Is it Gil?”

“No. It’s called zenny. They’re smaller than gil, about the size of your thumbnail. There are no different sizes or shapes or certain amounts adding up to anything else. If they say you owe them two hundred zenny, you owe them two hundred zenny.”

“Clear and to the point. Nice.”

“Indeed.”

“Ah.” Which reminds him of the fact that he doesn’t actually have said currency. “Actually, are there are any jobs--”

“I’m dealing with your finances today.”

“What?! No! You can’t pay for all this!”

“Why not?” Cor turns to him, hand on hip. “You’re my responsibility. And more to the point, you have no funds to start with, and all your starting material was lost with Zorah. What would you expect me to do?”

“I...I don’t know, but this stuff can’t be cheap!”

“Then you’ll owe me one. I hate to burst your bubble, but the items we’re getting you are standard. Cheap, easy. Now later on, if you lose your weapons and armor after you’ve had Bhaltair upgrade them and strengthen them? That will be a different story. But at most, this venture will cost me a thousand zenny.”

Noctis flinches. “Absolutely not.” He steps away, putting his hands behind his back and shaking his head. “No way, that’s too much.”

Cor snorts. “Noctis, how long have I been out here, now?”

“Uh--”

“Nearly twenty years. And tell me, with my reputation and the amount people rely on me to do things nobody else can or will do, how much zenny do you think I’ve accumulated since then? You know I’m not a big spender.”

“I… uh. A lot?”

“To put it mildly. This trip won’t even leave the smallest ding in my finances, Noctis. But more importantly, this is tradition - I brought you here, I sponsor you until you get on your own feet. And even once you’re on your own, making enough to support yourself, I’m not going to abandon you if you need something. That’s not the way this works.”

“How does it work then?”

“Not like Insomnia. I didn’t bring you here to tell you ‘too bad so sad’ and leave you at the mercy of the world. Astera is small, and our numbers are few; we stick together, no matter the Fleet, and we keep ourselves alive. That’s how it works. Now, are you going to come with me to the smithy, or I am going to have to put you over my shoulder?”

“You can still do that?!”

“Would you like to find out?”

Memories surface; Noctis, fifteen and volatile, taking his first but certainly not his last swing at some pompous prick that sneered at him, and Cor snatching him up with all speed, hefted him over a shoulder, and taking off to a more private spot to put the reins on. 

It was the one thing Cor was good for - restraint. Restraining Noctis from his desires to beat the shit out of everyone who thought it was  _ just so easy being a Prince,  _ or those guards and Glaives who refused to fight him because they thought he would throw a fit if he lost. Restraining Gladio from knocking the shit out of Noctis when Noctis when looking for fights in all the wrong places, and Gladio took issue with that, restraining Ignis from killing Gladio for daring to lay hands on Noctis, and restraining himself from killing them all for being utter idiots.

If Cor had been with him in the forest, there’s little doubt in Noctis’s mind he wouldn’t have had a chance to split his hands open, because Cor would have carried him off and reminded him of his duty to reach Astera  _ whole and alive. _

Noctis closes the gap between him and Cor. Cor hums, amused and continues on towards the smithy.

Even in the early morning hours, the inside of the building is stifling hot, the bellows blasting and the iron moving through the process of becoming weapons. Second Fleet Master Bhaltair stands at the conveyor belt, sorting through the pieces of armor and equipment that come through. Some he scowls at and tosses over his shoulder, into a steadily-growing pile. Others he puts back on the belt. He doesn’t look up even when Cor is directly in front of him, not until there’s a large gap in the belt.

“What now, Leonis?”

“Come to get my pup kitted and fitted. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“Eh?” Bhaltair finally notices him, and jerks. “Stars above!” He fixes a glower on Cor. “He’s as bad as you about the sneakin’ around, I see.”

“I’m not sneaking--” Noctis starts, but Cor stops him with a hand to the shoulder.

“Armor first. Something that Kestodon won’t be able to knock off him, preferably absorable to high impact. Have you got something?”

Bhaltier makes a thinking sound. “Got a few odds and ends that  _ might  _ play nicely together. Won’t know ‘til we dress him.”

“This is why I wanted to start early,” Cor tells Noctis softly as Bhaltier disappears towards the back, where there’s a series of crates full of complete pieces of armor. “Because it’s going to take him two hours to decide on what you need. Learn your armor well, and what you need to dress yourself in for each mission, because unless you  _ tell  _ him what you want, he’s going to do this every time.”

“Every time?”

Cor nods. “And you won’t always have this kind of time. Especially if the Commander will do to you what he did to me and hand you the high priority missions.”

“Is that what today is?”

“No. Today is what I call a ‘reaction’ mission. We’re moving based on what happened yesterday - Zorah Magdaros made landfall, and the Jagras moved as a result. Their movement out of their normal territory has caused a herd of Kestodon to abandon their own usual territory, and spread around cause a ruckus. We’ve orders to either move or cull those that are outside their usual territory lines.”

“Move?”

“I’ll be handling that. We set up pit traps in certain areas, capture the Kestodon, and drag them back to their home turf. You, on the other hand, will be with the team of cullers. Anything that refuses to be moved, or fights you, you kill.”

“And then you pull it apart and rob it of every valuable piece of skin, bone or scale it’s got, and bring it back to me!” Bhaltair interrupts, slapping four pieces of armor down in front of him loud enough to wake the dead. “And I’ll craft ya something nice outta it.”

The conveyor belt has stopped, Noctis notices. “Right. Uh, you’ll show me how to do that too?”

“It would be stupid of me not to. What have you got for me, Bhaltair?”

“Breastplate, vambrace, grieve, and coil. I’ve got nothing strong enough to go over his head; he’ll just have to hold off on the headbutting competitions for now.” There’s a joke there, but Noctis isn’t sure what it is. 

Cor looks at each piece and nods. “This will do fine for now. When we come back, we can see about getting him something made from the Kestodon we cut down.”

“I’ve got a set of blueprints for vambraces. You want me to start sketchin’ while you’re gone?”

“That would be perfect. Now, onto the weaponry.” He looks at Noctis. “Any idea what you would be best at wielding? Keep in mind, this isn’t Insomnia. If you want to try something outside your usual fare, you can.”

“What do you have?”

“Ah, and the list begins,” Bhaltair sighs, and recites, “Great Sword, Long Sword, your ordinary Sword 'n Shield, Dual Blades, Hammer, Hunting Horn, Lance, Gunlance, Switch Axe, Charge Blade, Insect Glaive, Light Bowgun, Heavy Bowgun, and last but not least, your ordinary, regular Bow.”

Fourteen options total. Noctis blinks. “Can I… try some of them out before I make a choice?”

“Certainly. Caspian!” 

A black and grey mottled Palico comes running out from behind one of the boxes, wearing a protective visor over its face, a heavy apron, and gloves. “Yes Meowster?”

“Take this pup out to the Training Grounds. Cor, you stayin’?”

“Going. Some of these he needs to learn how to wield. He won’t be used to weapons of this size.”

“See ya when you pick your poison then.”

It doesn’t take Noctis nearly as long as he assumes. In the first five seconds alone he narrows it down from the largest weapons to the lighter, smaller ones. Cor provides him a commentary on each one, and on a couple of them, gives him a quick crash course in how to work them. Of the series, Noctis’ interest comes down to the Bow in the end, although he debates on keeping the Gunlance for a time.

“If you change your mind later, you can always come back and switch,” Cor tells him. “I changed multiple times over the course of my time here. Stay here long enough, and I imagine you’ll see me use the Dual Blades as well as the Long Sword.”

Bhaltair is less impressed. “A  _ bow?  _ Pah! Ordinary, plain, no pizzaz, no spark! I expected better from the godson of Cor “give me the biggest weapon you have so I can beat my enemies to death with it” Leonis.”

“Stop it, Bhaltair,” Cor orders sharply. “Noctis isn’t me; he’s not prone to rushing in to pick fights just because there’s a monster in the area. The bow suits him. Now shut up and craft it.”

“Aye, aye, no need to get surly. Stars, you’d think you was still a pup yourself.”

“I consider my godson’s protection priority. You’d be surly yourself if your Second suddenly started being a prick to a boy who hasn’t even been here twenty-four hours yet.”

“You’re right, I’d have punched the fucker’s lights out by now.”

“Then shut up and make the bow.”

“Bone or iron?”

“Bone.”

“Two hours. Two hundred zenny.”

Cor digs into a pouch and pulls out a series of the little silver pieces from earlier. He doesn’t count them, instead letting them sift through his fingers until he has enough, and then handing them over. “Your payment.”

“Go find someone else to terrorize until this gets done. You could walk the lad around and show him off, make sure he knows the players.”

“He already does.”

“Then go sulk in a corner or cry on a balcony for all I give a flying fuck, Leonis! Just get out of here so I can work!”

Cor scoffs and stalks off, Noctis hurrying to catch up. He swears he hears a soft laugh behind him as he leaves.

“Is he always going to be like that?” Noctis asks as they walk opposite of the way they came, down towards where the Commander and Chief were at yesterday. “Because if he is, I’m going to have to request you come with me when I need something.”

Cor shakes his head. “No, that was Bhaltair trying to intimidate you for future interactions. He does that with new people - tries to make himself surlier and nastier than he actually is. A lot of the older command have their own tricks to play, but the Second never let go of  _ that  _ particular little trick. It’s a kind of rough ‘prove to me you’re worth my time’ kind of thing. They’re trying to teach you to walk up and demand what you deserve, not ask for what you  _ think  _ you do.”

“That’s… a good way to send the wrong message.”

“It is, which is why the Commander bashed heads the last time it happened. Because their prized recruit heard those words, saw the way they acted, and came to the wrong conclusion. By the time the Commander was able to get a hand on the situation, a lot of damage had come out of it, and a lot of misunderstandings and hurt for all the wrong reasons. Reasons that easily could have been avoided if they’d just been themselves.”

Noctis quietly considers his words. He also considers what Cor has inadvertently hinted at - the reason he is the way he is. 

“Does Dad know?”

“Your father is a patient man,” Cor answers quietly, after a length of time. “But especially to the wild creatures he should be fearing instead of welcoming. You’re the same as him.”

“Learned from the best.”

“Indeed you did. Now let’s see how this armor holds up.”

  
  


X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

  
  


Two hours later, Cor and Noctis leave the smithy with both armor and weapon in hand. Cor is dressed in his own armor once more, sword strapped to his back. 

“So we’re hunting Kestodon?” Noctis asks as they stride downstairs towards the gate. 

“No.” Cor steers them to the right, towards the meeting table. “First, we’re speaking with the Commander to pick up the hunt proper. And  _ then _ we will go hunt Kestodon. Unless you pick up the hunt, it doesn’t count as officially sanctioned. It’s why you aren’t getting anything from taking care of the Jagras, even though you technically fulfilled the rules of the hunt.”

“There was a hunt in place?”

“There was going to be. The paperwork was filed - all it needed was your signature. Or the signature of whoever would have picked it up if you’d said no.”

“Ah. So basically any time I pick up a hunt, I have to sign for it?”

“Almost always. Unless you’re doing work for the Resource Center - that requires nothing more than notifying either Simen, Doss, or Rupert. They’ve got their own little thing going over on that side of the fence. But the hunts undertaken everywhere else, yes, you need to notify and sign for.”

“What happens in the event I fail? Or… say I get eaten.”

“Don’t even joke about that.”

“Theoretically. I get eaten by a Great Jagras and coughed up two days later. Reported as dead.”

“In that case the signed for would be set aside, a new one made and signed, and a new hunt would commence. Although if you  _ do  _ wind up getting eaten by something, I can assure you  _ I’ll  _ be the only one hunting it. The Commander would sign it himself if needs be, but nobody but me would be touching whatever beast it was that ate you.”

“That’s reassuring.”

“I told you, you’re my responsibility.”

The Commander is awake, talking quietly with the Huntsman and the Chief as they pour over a stack of reports and a map, occasionally adding a colorful pin to some section of it. He doesn’t even look up as Cor draws near, merely handing over the paperwork and a pen. Cor nudges Noctis, pointing where he’s to sign, and then signs his own messy signature. Noctis takes the pen and does the same, and pushes the paperwork back towards the Commander when he’s done. 

“Be safe, you two,” Three voices chorus, and then all three men pause and look at each other. Noctis hides a snicker by coughing into his own shoulder, while Cor shakes his head, waves, and takes them off towards the gate.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

It doesn’t take them more than a short walk outside of base before Cor stops him, and points.

“ _ Those  _ are Kestodon.”

They look like something out of an old dinosaur documentary. Capped heads, long bodies, tiny little arms, powerful legs. Herbivores from the looks of them, eagerly ripping plants out of the nearby area. There are two kinds, Noctis sees, both with blue underbellies. The smaller brown ones with the capped heads and the bigger orange ones, with heads that hold massive shield-like crests. “I’m guessing the big ones are the males.”

“Correct. Those are the ones you’re going to have to kill. The males won’t go quietly like the females will, and there’s generally more males than females in a herd anyhow. Use your slinger to distract them, lure them away if you have to. The females will sound the alarm as soon as anything spooky goes on around them, so the quieter we can keep this, the better.”

Noctis nods. “And the females are going with you?”

“Yep. I’ll be bundling them up and taking them to one of the nearby camps we have. We’ve got hands ready to cart them back to their native part of the forest.”

“Will that be enough?”

“It will be. We’ve relocated creatures before, and usually they’re inclined to stay with the bigger parts of their herd. If they come back out, we’ll either cull or carry them back, just as we’ve always done. It’s all we can do, with Zorah upsetting everything as it goes.”

Which reminds him. “I’m kind of surprised we haven’t seen Zorah again. Kind of hard to miss a walking volcano.”

“You’d think so, but Elder Dragons can be surprisingly quick. Zorah’s likely pushed past the Ancient Forest by now, gone straight into the Wastes, or possibly even made it to the Highlands.”

“Wastes? Highlands?”

“Locations beyond the Forest. The next immediate area is the Wildspire Waste - a vast desert, not much around for miles. The area beyond that, around the ravine’s edge on the other side, is the Coral Highlands. The Highlands are also where the Third went and got themselves stranded.”

Noctis wants to ask more, what’s to ask what the Third is and how they got themselves stranded, why nobody’s rescued them, and if he’ll ever get to go to these places Cor describes one day, but Cor’s already shaking his head, pointing. “Alright, enough chatter. Work time.”

Which is how Noctis finds himself hiding in some bushes a few moments later, using his slinger to lure the suspicious females away from the napping males. They’re slow, cautiously peering around as they follow the odd sounds deeper into the brush where Cor is waiting. But at last he gets them both in deep, and a moment later there’s a muffled sound like a fist hitting flesh, and a charge of electrical energy, and then the sound of two heavy bodies hitting the ground.

Now comes Noctis’ next part. He has to keep the males from charging Cor while Cor walks the females over to the camp - and hefting something that heavy prevents Cor from doing anything more than a fast walk over to the area.

Thankfully, the males are easy to incense, and easier to keep the attention of. But Noctis quickly sees what Cor meant by  _ ability to take high impact damage  _ in regards to his armor - he makes the mistake of turning his back  _ once,  _ and winds up thrown as one of the males slams into his back. Mud all over him, slammed into a nearby tree, and barely out of the way in time to avoid another charge. 

Cor doesn’t so much as glance at him as he works, which is both heartening and terrifying, to think his uncle has so much confidence in him to take this matter himself. It takes twenty-two arrows to put one of the males down, and thirty for the second. By the time its done, his arms feel like noodles. 

“Unnecessary,” Cor’s voice comes directly behind him, and Noctis squawks and jumps a foot in the air. 

“Damn it, Cor!” he gasps, clutching his heart. “Fuck!”

“Pay attention to your surroundings,” Cor tells him as he walks over to the carcasses. “But more importantly, this? This is sloppy. This will get you killed out here on the field.”

“What-what do you mean?” Noctis asks. 

“At most, a full grown Kestodon can be taken down in ten shots. Assuming you’re aiming at their weak spots.”

“Yeah, and I don’t know their weak spots.”

“At any point during the fight, did you notice the beasts flinch when you struck them?”

Noctis opens his mouth, and closes it slowly. “Maybe… their back legs?”

To his surprise, Cor nods. “Their back legs are their weakness. You take those out, and they’re easy pickings. You can walk right up and slit their throats. That’s what I meant by sloppy. It’s wasteful, and it’s long-winded, and out in the field when we need something hunted by day’s end, or even an hour out? It can be dangerous.”

“Right. Okay, I see the issue.” He folds his hands behind his neck. “Do we have a record of the weak points for everything in the Forest and beyond?”

“We do.” Cor smirks. “I was the one who made it. The Ecological Research lost their damn mind when I gave it to them. Old man Tulon still swears by it.”

“Do you have a copy?”

“Better. I have the original.  _ They  _ have the copy.”

“Holy shit, Cor.”

“Yep. And you’re going to carry it on. Anything new you notice, mark it down. Study it. Find out if it holds up. Likewise anything that  _ is  _ in the book that no longer seems true, make a note of it. Those notes are the difference between life or death out here in the fields. Your Scoutflies will make it easier.”

“My  _ what?” _

Cor looks down at his hip, and hisses. “They didn’t give you Scoutflies.”

“Uh, what are--”

“These.” He taps a small jar on the side of his uniform, filled with little green bugs. “Scoutflies make it easier for you to track a target. If you have enough information on them, or gather enough of their tracks, they’ll lead you right to them. I’ll see about getting you some when we get back. In the meantime, there’s another small herd of Kestodon to take care of. They’re down on the coast near the water, so there’s no coverage. This time, we’ll take down the males first, and then I’ll sort the females.”

“Okay.” 

“And this time, I expect to see what I told you put into practice.”

“Can do.”

“Will do. Now let’s move.”


End file.
